


Only a Little Resentment

by GrimJune



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, My bf and i were discussing this and im so weak, Polyamory, This isn't super shippy w/ tooru and urie i guess but like eh, Trans Urie too fight me, Urie is a wreck & Tooru is a blessing on the world, implied relationships with shirazu, tooru knows what the fuck he's doing and urie dont know shit, urie-typical angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 12:51:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4180524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimJune/pseuds/GrimJune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Urie believes that the world never caters to the "weak"<br/>Mutsuki shows him that there's nothing "weak" about it.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A bit of a drabble in the beginning, but it eventually moves on. This is my first fic, and it's trash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only a Little Resentment

Urie thought that with their promotions--  _his_ promotion-- would come with a vast sense of relief; of accomplishment. The satisfaction that he'd achieved something worthwhile, but for the weeks that passed, that satisfaction never came. The bitter, twisted knot in the pit of his stomach never left, never eased for a second, and to be truthful it left him feeling something of a failure. No matter how hard he tried, his pride seemed insatiable. Was this how he was meant to live out his days? Never feeling good enough, unable to point out  _why_ he deserved the recognition he so desperately desired? The thought made his stomach turn; that same desperation made him feel worse. Why did he let himself be turned so inside-out by these feelings? Why was he incapable of being content with what he had? He couldn't pinpoint his own reasoning, and it made him want to pull at his hair and scream at times, but of course, he couldn't. That was pathetic. Loss of self-collection was a sign of madness, a sign of the weak, who couldn't reign in their own emotions and instead let them run rampant. 

And so he kept his mouth shut.

This wasn't an uncommon practice for Urie, as he found himself often biting back hot retorts in front of Mutsuki, or Sasaki. Shirazu however, he was another topic entirely.

 

The ceiling was a dark gray and the room was hot, and the friction of Shirazu's hips against his was getting unbearable, at this point. Between breaths, the blond was panting out his name, hands straying up Urie's ribs. Urie himself was turned half on his side, hips up but the side of his face pressed against the pillow, alternating between holding his breath to bite back noise, and gasping for air. Each time he couldn't hold it anymore, he was pressing his face into the pillow, clutching at it and crying out, the sound muffled but ringing in his own ears. Shirazu would squeeze his hips then, and groan hotly against his throat. Urie's eyes felt wet and hot, but he resigned himself to moaning against the pillow; Anything was preferable to actually breaking down into tears. But even though he liked to tell himself that Shirazu was a fucking idiot, even he couldn't fool himself for long. Math and biology may have not been his forte, but Shirazu picked up on human emotion quicker than Urie would have ever liked to comprehend.

The blond slowed a bit, rubbing his hands over Urie's ribs, concern in his breathless voice. 

" _Oi, Cookie, you okay? Hey, talk to me..._ " Quickly, Urie shook his head, biting his lip hard. Shaking, he pressed his hips against the other's a bit harder, an attempt at a distraction, and though Shirazu buried his face into his neck, his hands squeezed softly at his sides. Urie's stomach turned; Shirazu had a way of trying to be gentle, when Urie wanted none of it at all. " _A_ _re you alright? Should I stop_?"

" _Cut it out_ ," Urie hissed through clenched teeth. Even just that sounded too loud in the sudden quiet; The creaking bed and heaving breaths had been replaced by Urie's shaky voice and wild breathing, compared to Shirazu's more quiet, gentle demeanor now. " _Don't you dare stop, I can't, I can't...._ " he tilted his head back a bit, trying to catch a breath, trying to avoid the other's gaze, but he felt a hot wetness slide down his cheeks. Disgusted, he reached up wiping it away. It didn't stop.  _  
_

" _Hey, Cookie... C'mon... Breathe for me, you shouldn't be wearing this right now..._ " Shirazu's voice sounded far away, but he felt fingers slide beneath his binder, coaxing it upwards. At once, Urie shot up, trying to shove the other away. 

" _No! Knock it off, Shirazu!"_ _  
_

_"No, you can't breathe properly like that, you're gonna end up hurting yourself, Cookie!"_

_"Just shut up, alright?! Don't touch me!"_

At once, Shirazu pulled his hands away. Urie had drawn himself up, leaning against the headboard now. He pulled his knees upwards, a sense of shame clouding his thoughts, twisting knots in his stomach. His ribs were aching, and it  _was_  getting difficult to breathe, but now that he'd stirred up a scene, he wouldn't admit his wrongs. Shaking, he rubbed at his face, before raking his fingers through his hair. Feeling sick, he whispered, " _Where's my clothes?"_ For a long moment, Shirazu paused, and Urie thought he was going to have to snap at him again, but the other beat him to it. Shirazu began to move, reaching for the discarded articles of their clothing. He didn't seem upset in the slightest, only concerned, and perhaps a bit hurt. Urie refused to look him in the face as he was handed his clothes, which he moved to pull on shakily. Shirazu stayed quiet as he did so, sitting there and looking not unlike a kicked dog of sorts, just watching. Urie grimaced, and tugged his shirt down into place, and heaved a heavy, aching sigh as he moved to the edge of the bed. 

_"I just wanna make sure yer alright, y'know, Cookie? I know you can be tough on yourself sometimes, and I just-"_

_"Cut it out, Shirazu. Please?"_

Shirazu fell quiet.

He wasn't stupid, wasn't unobservant; Often, any attempt at romance, at comfort, any hint of concern simply bounced off Urie as if he were made of stone. And Shirazu could understand that, he figured. The affection just made Urie uncomfortable at times. He was bad enough with personal relationships as is, and the romantic ones were a bit of a stretch. Shirazu had learned by now, that it was best to just give the other some space until he had time to clear his head. He watched as Urie stood, trying to fix his hair, and sighed. For a long minute, they were both silent.

Shirazu broke it first.

"Hey... Just... Let me know when you're feeling better, alright? That's all," he murmured. All Urie gave was a small nod before quickly departing, leaning against the door after he closed it behind him. He took a few slow, deep breaths, trying to get ahold of himself. Sometimes, he could ignore particular things that had the tendency to make him uncomfortable; They weren't directly in his visuals, and for the better part, one did not typically remain actively aware of their genitalia. His chest however, was one thing he couldn't quite get over. It was something that was  _there,_ distinguishing and obvious, something he could never let other people see.

You see, he had a very particular frame of mind. 

One may deem it a rather pessimistic view, but he simply liked to call it "realistic".

As a member of the work force, Urie figured that if he wanted to get ahead, he'd have no choice other than to conform to society's standards, and then out-preform them. If anyone, co-workers or higher-ups found out, of course he figured they would still respect him, or at the very least, remain polite. But they would know, and it would- without a doubt- alter how they spoke, acted, and thought of them. He was always terrified that it would interfere, and suddenly, he'd be getting less hours, less missions, and any chance at furthering his career would be done for. Anyone can say they're open-minded, that they don't care, that such  _trivial_ things didn't mean anything to them; But of course, those were just words, and anyone could say words. Hell, Shirazu had found out on accident. He'd fallen asleep in the bastards room one night, woke up at one in the morning unable to breathe, and woke up the other while struggling to tug off his binder. He'd forced Shirazu to keep it a secret, and threatened some  _awful_ things, should he ever get the idea to speak a word of it to anyone, but surprisingly, the other complied. He even seemed delighted, and though that may bring one person happiness, it made Urie uneasy. Shirazu wouldn't have expressed that kind of delight if he hadn't known, and already, he was being treated differently; delicately. Anytime he stopped to make sure that Urie was fine when they fucked, it made him feel sick; He didn't want Shirazu to care. He wanted him to treat him like how he  _wished_  to be treated.

But how the hell did he want to be treated?

Stomach churning again, Urie sighed, and made his way down the hall towards the stairs. He needed a cup of coffee, maybe a jog or twelve around the block, and something to just occupy his mind for a few hours. Some sense of normality to his routine again. 

At the bottom of the stairs, he nearly collided into a smaller, tanned frame, which emitted a squeak of fright. If Urie hadn't grabbed his shirt, he was sure that Mutsuki would have tripped over his own feet and collided face-first with the fourth step up.

"Urie...! Sorry, I didn't see you!" he chimed, looking genuinely apologetic. After a moment, Urie released him, looking away.

"It's fine. What are you doing up so late?" He asked, detached. Mutsuki blinked, giving the slightest of laughs.

"It's only a little past ten. It's not that late, is it? I was going to go up to bed, but I thought I heard arguing, so I figured..." Mutsuki's explanation trailed off as Urie suddenly moved around him, heading towards the kitchen. He wasn't too keen on hearing a recount of his and Shirazu's spat from a third party, and so he brushed it off. 

"Is there coffee?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. You're going to have to warm it up though, I'm sure." And so he did just that, pouring a mug and sticking it in the microwave for a good thirty seconds or so. Mutsuki watched from the stairs silently, and Urie was beginning to with that he wouldn't. A glance triggered an intrusive thought that told him to walk over there, slide a finger beneath that eye patch that Sasaki got for him, pull it a bit, and let it smack back against the kid's face. He had to suppress a snort; No, that's a little too mean. He didn't dislike him enough to actually hurt him. Returning his gaze back towards the microwave, he sighed. Twenty seconds left.

"Hey, Mutsuki."

"Yeah?"

"How do you deal with it?"

A long silence ensued; Urie didn't have to clarify, nor did Mutsuki ask for clarification. They were both suddenly, painfully aware of the topic at hand, and Mutsuki looked as nervous as Urie felt.

"Deal with it... I guess it depends, honestly. I guess you could say that there's _coping methods_ , if that's what you want to call them. He didn't really seem to want to, but Urie wasn't sure that the term was too far off the mark. Five more seconds.

"Like what?" He asked with a quiet sigh. He left his resting place leaning against the stove to move forward, opening the microwave and carefully pulling out the mug. It was warm to the touch. He was careful. 

"I... Like I said, it depends really, on the amount of dysphoria..." he heard a weak laugh from across the room, "Binding, packers, I mean obviously there's hormone treatment and reassignment surgery, but that's..." he trailed off, looking down.

"Not within immediate reach." Their paychecks weren't measly, that's for sure but they weren't exactly generous, as far as constantly risking your life goes. Mutsuki nodded again. Another silence, during which Urie sipped at his coffee. Black coffee was impossibly bitter, and tasted something like dirt he thought, and he was considering downing the whole thing just to be done with it. Not that it'd do anything; Even coffee couldn't keep him awake anymore, sometimes. "Do you want to do that? Go all the way, with that?" He was sure something of a pink flush was crossing the other's cheeks, and Mutsuki was fidgeting.

"I'd... Well yeah, I'd like to, honestly. Sometimes I consider letting them go further with the surgery, the experiments, and just asking if they can... change some things, you know...?" His face was reddening, and Urie could practically feel the shame rolling off the other in waves. But he understood. He'd contemplated the idea a few times himself, but figured it'd be best to keep quiet, in the end. They were specialized surgeons trained specifically for this field of work, for the testing their squad went though; He honestly didn't trust them with things of  _that_ manner. Brows furrowed, Urie leaned over the counter, setting the mug down.

"Aren't you afraid? About how other people will treat you?" 

"..."

Mutsuki moved back to the couch and sat down, not looking at the other. He seemed contemplative though, as if he was genuinely trying to find the best answer to give. 

"As if people wouldn't objectify me anyway, if I was a woman? Better this, than that. At least I feel better, being who I am." He laced his fingers together, then unlaced them, choosing to stare at his palms instead. He repeated this action a fair few times. Urie stared into his mug for a few moments before giving in to his earlier desire, lifting the cup and downing it. He rinsed it out, and set it aside for later; it was his mug, anyway. Still refusing to look at the other, Urie moved into the sitting room, sitting on the other end of the couch. Mutsuki glanced at him, but only briefly. The silence that ensued was tense at best, and Urie was sure that the other would chicken out, stand up and leave instead of having to continue to bear his presence. But to his surprise, Mutsuki stayed. Then, he began to speak again. "I... I like where I am, right now, because it's better than where I used to be. Because I know that I have friends here to support me... Sasaki, and Shirazu, and Saiko..." a pause, "I don't... I don't know how you feel, honestly. And it... worries me sometimes, because you  _are_ a friend..." Urie was blinking, confused, because he'd figured that it simply hadn't mattered; He was a jerk, and he knew that, so it was none of his business to begin with.

"I don't mind. It's who you are. You're part of the team, no matter what, so..." He trailed off, shrugging awkwardly. Words of comfort weren't exactly his forte either. He figured he was bad at comforting people. He didn't however, think he was so bad that he expected the sound of shaky breath and sniffling beside him. A bit miffed, he looked over to see Mutsuki wiping his eyes. "I... Well, sorry, I don't know what to say, so-"

"I'm not upset, I'm really happy, Urie...!"

 "I..."  _What? Then what the hell was with the tears?_ Brows furrowed, Urie leaned over a bit, a small frown curving his lips. "Quit crying, what's up with that?" _  
_

" _I'm happy, that's all. The way you acted when you found out, I wasn't sure how you felt. I wasn't sure how to feel. I was worried that it'd change how you thought about me."_ Urie listened quietly, and the shock and confusion slowly began to drift away, replaced with something a little more... annoyed. Why would he, of all people, think any differently about someone based solely on those kinds of facts? It was the same kind of mentality he held, but instead, Mutsuki didn't act on his fears. He went on, without being impeded by them. Was  _he_ being impeded? No, that was ridiculous. Urie did the things he did, specifically for his own protection; He wouldn't do something that would get in his own way. The word for that, was called being "counterproductive".  But it  _did_ make the gears in his head start turning. _  
_

"...How long are you typically supposed to wear a binder? Before you should probably take it off, that is." He'd stop caring so long ago, that it slipped his mind. Slowly, Mutsuki recovered.

"Depends on how tight it is, I guess, but not longer than eight hours, I'm sure."

"Is it okay to sleep in one?"

"Ah, you shouldn't," Mutsuki piped up, blinking in concern, "It's not really good for you! You're supposed to take it off every so often, give yourself a chance to relax and give everything around there a break, you know?" Urie fell quiet, looking down, and yet Mutsuki didn't look away. He was smiling, now. "You've gotta take care of yourself..."

"I do..." Urie muttered, defensively, "I just... Don't like it, you know?"

Looking satisfied, Mutsuki leaned back against the couch, folding his arms gently. He smiled, but his gaze didn't linger, and he looked away.

"Yeah, I know, Urie."

 

Several moments passed, before Urie's face began to feel hot. He looked up quickly, and tried to swallow, but his throat felt dry; felt like there was something suddenly blocking the passage, and with the realization, came a slight sickness. He whirled around to the other, lip curled. 

"I didn't say that!"

Mutsuki wasn't looking at him, but he seemed at ease, and not at all intimidated by the other boys demeanor. Instead, he gave a gentle sigh before turning slightly, fixing the other with a gentle gaze.

"It's alright, it's okay. You didn't say anything, and I'm not going to say anything, okay...?" he asked slowly, but he was smiling. And instead of making him angry, that smile shamed him. Urie was gritting his teeth, averting his attention to the couch space between them. For a few moments, all was quiet, before there was a slight shift, and the couch between them dipped down. Suddenly, there were smaller, tanned hands brushing along his collarbone hesitantly, slowly. But he could do nothing about it, he couldn't even move. His face felt hot and his hands were shaking, but he couldn't force himself to move. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut.

He felt the hands more firmly then, slide down his chest, and the slight pressure made his ribs ache. Smaller movements, and a chill as the buttons of his shirt were undone. He had to turn his head away then. Mutsuki's voice was quiet, gentle and warm and close. 

_"It's alright, I know... It's fine, Urie..."_

The hands slid backwards, barely rubbed against his back for a moment before working at the clasp of his binder, and within a few minutes the pressure disappeared. The relief was so shocking, that his sigh was almost a groan, and before he knew it his cheeks were wet again. Instead, he leaned forward, his forehead resting against Mutsuki's shoulder gently. He felt pathetic, but as long as he didn't open his eyes, as long as he didn't  _acknowledge_ it, he'd be fine. He'd be alright. The small, warm hands moved slowly, massaging up his sides, his ribs, and his chest. Everything felt tender, and he had to bite his lip from making any noise. Softly, Mutsuki would  _shush_ and  _hush_ him, tell him that everything was fine. He'd instruct him to take deep breaths or cough every so often, and Urie would. It felt so lovely that he could hardly stand it. It was nothing strictly  _romantic_ or  _sexual_ in any sense, no, not at all, and Urie would have likely been uncomfortable if it had been. It was innocent, and gentle, and meant simply to comfort, and it felt nice. For the first time in a while, he was feeling some sort of relief, found some form of comfort in Mutsuki's words, by the gentle hands that were taking care of him.  _Him._ He was the last person in the world who deserved anything like that.

 _"I'm sorry... sorry I'm such an asshole, I... You deserve a lot better than that, you know..."_ he mumbled against Mutsuki's shoulder, which shook then with a gentle laugh.

 _"I know, and I don't think I'm letting it bother me anymore. You just don't know what to do with_ yourself, _so you push it onto other people."_  

Urie felt a bit indignant at that, but didn't say anything, instead giving a soft sigh. He allowed himself to sit there and let himself be taken care of, until Mutsuki's hands eventually slid away. He almost wanted to complain, but felt the other beginning to button up his shirt again. He was feeling drowsy, but not so much so that he wasn't registering what was going on.

More shifting, and he heard a sigh from in front of him. After a moment, he let himself barely open his eyes, enough to watch Mutsuki pull his thin sweater back over his head, and tug it back down. The boy smiled at him, moving to drop their binders on the arm of the couch, before holding out his arms. Urie narrowed his eyes a bit.

"What...?"

"Lay down with me, please?" Mutsuki hummed with a smile. Urie's cheeks felt warm again, and he looked away, only giving a curt nod. He moved forward, wrapping his arms around the other, not particularly minding when Mutsuki nudged him down just enough, so that he was in the facing-each-other version of being the big spoon. Flustered, Urie buried his face in Mutsuki's chest.

_"I'm always the big spoon, Urie."_

_"Shut up."_

 

Sometime in the morning, there was a ruffling of fingers in Mutsuki's hair. Blinking blearily, he let himself register his surroundings. The couch in the sitting room, with a sleeping Urie in his arms, and an upward glance gave him the image of Shirazu grinning, holding out a cup of coffee.

"Mornin', Tooru!" he hummed softly, looking pleased. With a sleepy smile, Mutsuki sat up with the utmost care so as to not wake Urie, taking the mug from Shirazu with a grateful nod. Shirazu practically danced his way back into the kitchen. Sipping his coffee and contenting himself with running his fingers through Urie's hair, Mutsuki called softly. 

"I thought that you weren't this awake until eleven, Shirazu."

"I'm not, but I came down for some bitterness in a cup, and saw you two layin' there all cute like. Atta boy, Tooru. Someone's gotta take care of Cookie's sorry ass."

 _"Shut up..."_ came the most tired mumble Mutsuki was sure he'd ever heard, right from his lap. Urie was mumbling and shifting closer, and the sight made his heart warm a bit. Or maybe it was just the coffee. Glancing back up at Shirazu, he lifted a finger to his lips. Shirazu seemed to get the picture and nodded. One hand still pouring coffee, he lifted the other and made a zipping motion across his lips, grinning. A moment later, his voice erupted again, loud and pained.

 _"Son of a bitch!!!"_ The coffee had overflowed and poured over his hand, causing him to not only drop the coffee pot, but knock over the full mug right onto the ground. The crashing was enough to start the morning.

 

Not a few minutes later, a yawning Sasaki had stepped downstairs to see a mess of a kitchen, and Mutsuki trying to hold back an angry, disheveled Urie, who seemed to have plans on killing the blond sitting on the counter.

"I'm tellin' ya, I didn't do it on purpose! Bad timin' is all!"

"Shut up, I can't sleep for _five minutes_ with you around!"

"Urie please, violence isn't the answer this early in the morning!"

Sasaki stared for only a minute, before yawning and turning, stepping right back up the stairs. 

Another hour would be good.

 

**Author's Note:**

> urie's a gay loser and so am i
> 
> im bad at this someone fire me


End file.
